


Four Men and a Baby

by Bella119



Category: The A-Team (TV), The A-Team - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-06-21 03:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15549000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bella119/pseuds/Bella119
Summary: A silly fun piece, written for a role reversal writing challenge. The story is inspired by a comment on the A-Team proboards forum about episodes people wish they had watched, and of course a certain film.The judges will be fandom blind so I’ve rather over characterised the team’s traits.Let me know if it makes you smile.





	1. The Baby is a Tormentor

**Four Men and a Little Baby**

 

**The Baby is a Tormentor** ****  
  
Stressed, Face ran his hand through his hair. He, Lieutenant Templeton Peck, had not signed up for this. There was no way on God's green earth he would have agreed to going on a run with his team if he suspected they were about to become...glorified babysitters.   
  
He looked at his commanding officer. Was that sweat on the older man's brow? Things were worse than he thought. Hannibal was never flustered. He had watched that man endure hours of torture at the hands of the Viet Cong. 'Nam hadn't broken Colonel John 'Hannibal' Smith, but apparently a teething six-month old could.   
  
"Um- er, Hannibal, do you think we should do something?" Face asked, raising his voice several decibels to be heard over the wailing baby.   
  
"And what, Lieutenant, do you suggest?" Hannibal held the baby at arm's length, not only to try and protect his ear drums from the screaming insult, but also because of the ominous smell coming from the diaper.   
  
BA recoiled away from the baby suspended over the stick shift in his van. “Don't ya wave that thing near me." 

In fact, if they hadn't been doing 55 on the freeway, Face was convinced the Sergeant would have jumped out. However, he was driving, which meant immediate evacuation was complicated.   
  
"Don't know what all the fuss is about," Murdock chipped in from the back where he was reading,  _ 'Your Baby and Child: From Birth to Age Five _ '. Captain HM Murdock knew if he could just understand this single book, all the team's worries would be over.   
  
BA couldn't hear him due to the wailing siren, disguised as a baby, next to him.   
“What's da fool jibber jabbering about?"    


"Aw come on ya ugly mudsucker, ya gotta way with kids. Why dontcha try?" Murdock suggested in his Texan drawl, moving to poke his head between the two men in the front of the van.   
  
"BA Baracus only handle 'em once they're talking. Can't communicate with that." He scowled at the baby now being held by Hannibal over the dashboard. It was still screaming.   
  
"Sergeant, we need to regroup. Get us somewhere safe A-Sap," Hannibal ordered the muscly black man behind the wheel.   
  
Murdock frowned at his CO's braced arms and the screaming infant suspended precariously close to the windshield. “Colonel, ya can't be holding it like that." 

"Well do something useful, like find the gas masks. Then I can risk holding it closer to my nose," Hannibal demanded.   
  
"Sorry, Hannibal, we used them on the last mission. You know when we set the tear gas off in the potato factory. I haven't had a chance to get new filters." Face replaced Murdock, peering apologetically between the front seats. He passed his colonel a cigar. "See if this helps you get on the jazz, if nothing else the smoke can mask the smell."   
  
Murdock plucked the cigar from over Hannibal's shoulder. "Ah. Ah, no, Colonel. Penelope says no smoking around infants, bad for their developing lungs." 

"And who the hell is Penelope?” Hannibal asked, disgruntled.   
  
"Leach, author of Murdock's new book on how to be a mom," Face clarified, as the pilot had moved away to dispose of the cigar.   
  
"Sounds like Lynch, don't wanna take no advice from that slimeball," BA growled. Noticing the unusual silence from the pilot, he got concerned. "What's the crazy fool doin' now?"   
  
"Increasing air flow," Murdock replied, pushing the sunroof open. "Penelope says fresh air is good for children's lungs…" He paused, looking thoughtful. "Or was it Mary Poppins? Anyways it'll help dilute the smell."   
  
Hannibal and BA gratefully leapt on the idea and quickly wound down the windows.   
  
"We could open the rear doors," Face suggested hopefully.   
  
"Face, I like your initiative, but you know we only do that when we're non-fatally incapacitating our enemies, to stop them pursuing us. It's really not safe," Hannibal said, glancing over his shoulder, despite virtually hanging the now quiet baby out of the newly opened window. He handled deadly explosives daily, so trusted his own grip on the child.   
  
"And us blacking out from poisonous fumes is hardly safe either," Face muttered through gritted teeth.   
  
Hannibal noticed Murdock in a flurry of activity in the back. "Captain, what are you doing?" 

  
"Here, Sir, try this." Murdock presented one of the team's duffel bags.   
  
Hannibal raised his eyebrows questionly.   
  
"Put the baby's lower half in the bag. Provides us with an extra layer of defence. That diaper looks ready to explode," Murdock answered the unspoken question.   
  
Hannibal carefully lowered the infant into the bag, while Murdock zipped it up around the child's waist. "Nice, Captain, nice." 

  
"Hang on!" Face exclaimed in horror. "That's my bag."   
  
BA clenched his bejewelled fist and waved it towards the protesting conman. "Stop your jibber jabber. The next sucker to speak gets a knuckle sandwich."   
  
"We gonna have to stop. I may not know anything about babies, but I've handled enough crap to know this kid has reached critical point. We've gotta change it," Hannibal replied, ignoring the Sergeant's threat.   


xxxx

Well it wasn't one of BA's usual masterpieces. The gold-clad man normally transformed a rusty tractor into a tank using just a handful of scrap metal, yet he'd done a surprisingly good job. He had created a suitable changing table with the team's gun safe and some tent canvas.   
  
Hannibal laid the baby down, then removed his black leather gloves. Eyeballing the little infant's bulging diaper, he thought better of it and put his gloves back on. Beside him Face folded and refolded a terry cloth.   
  
"Aw, Hannibal, these things don't come with a manual," Face whined.   
  
"Army 101, if it's not in the manual don't do it," Murdock said authoritatively, standing upwind of the activities.   
  
"Fool, shut it. They threw the manual out when Hannibal joined up," BA growled. He'd have moved away from Murdock, but daren't try another area incase the onslaught of stench hit him again. He breathed in deeply to stop himself from strangling the pilot.   
  
It took the A-Team the best part of an hour and a lot of duct tape to swaddle the child in the clean diaper. Hell, his men could take down a platoon of goons with a pea shooter, yet changing a baby appeared beyond all of them, Hannibal sighed. He left the now calm, clean baby in Face's care, before stepping away to smoke his cigar. As the rich woody smoke filled his lungs he started to formulate a plan.   
  
They had a responsibility to the child. The letter, tied to the buggy, made that clear. When they found the baby by the van, annoyingly, it was sucking on the envelope. Vital intel was missing. Apparently the kid was called Sarah and six months old. The mother claimed she needed a few days peace and who better to keep it safe than the A-Team? Hannibal would have dumped the infant at the nearest hospital if it hadn't been for the next paragraph.   
  
_ Sarah's father has a responsibility to help me. You and your team must keep her safe until the weekend. I'll meet you at the Kozy Klub 11.00 Saturday. I'm sorry it's come to this... _ __   
  
The rest of the handwritten note had been destroyed by the baby's incessant chewing. 

Hannibal looked across at Face clasping the child to his chest. He suspected it had more to do with keeping the newly fitted diaper on, than fatherly affection. At least BA was in the clear, the baby was white. The piercing blue eyes indicated it might be Hannibal's or Face's, but hadn't Murdock said something about all babies were born with blue eyes? The mop of dark brown hair, coating the child's head, suggested Murdock's genes.   
  
None of the three officers had been discreet entertaining women. If it was Murdock's, Jody Joy was firmly in the frame for being the awol mother or that dental hygienist he'd been sweet on. If it was Face's kid they could spend several days phoning all his conquests and still might not find her. 

Hannibal realised Maggie Sullivan could be the mom. In the throes of passion he knew he hadn't always played it safe with the good doctor. But surely she was past child bearing age. A quick mental calculation from when he last saw her and Hannibal swallowed uncomfortably - the dates would match.  
  
Logically, Hannibal realised whoever the mother was, she not only knew their van and how to find them, but also the fact they were the A-Team. That at least narrowed down the options, but sadly not by much. Finishing his cigar, he rolled his shoulders, trying to relax. Face was right, the nicotine hit did feed the jazz. He switched into full CO mode, as the plan came to him.  
  
"BA, call your mom. We're taking Sarah to her, then we'll bring your mom and the baby back to LA. She can help us look after the kid until the rendezvous," he ordered. "Murdock, plan the route, we'll split the driving in shifts. Face, we need supplies. Let's start with disposable diapers and whatever food babies eat."  
  
"Aw, Hannibal, how am I meant to know that?" Face protested.  
  
"Lieutenant," Hannibal barked to stop the whining. "You're the team's supply officer. Read the captain's damn book."  
  
"Oh boy," Face muttered under his breath.

 

~TAT~TAT~

 


	2. Who’s the Daddy?

**Who's the Daddy?** ****  
  
Colonel Roderick Decker had completed many unusual missions in the Army. His reputation for being a man who got things done - by any means - hadn't gone unnoticed by the top Brass. That's how he got assigned the mission to capture the A-Team. A simple job… or so he thought. Two years later, he was still no closer to rounding up the war criminals. Smith and his band of merry men remained elusive. Even when Decker had them, the fugitives would find a way to break free.   
  
Not this time. This time Decker had a foolproof plan.   
  
Stumbling on Baracus' van in that parking lot had been a stroke of luck. If Decker hadn't been alone he would have taken the three men down there and then. Instead he called Captain Crane to mobilise back-up, then settled down to watch.   
  
He heard a woman sobbing, and moved cautiously from his improvised observation station, between two cars. He saw the back of a blonde woman scurrying away, with her head bowed. He was about to give chase when a gurgle stopped him.   
  
There was an infant civilian, sat in a buggy, beside the van. It was gurgling at him.   
  
"Hello, little man, what you doing here?" Decker asked in a gravelly voice.   
  
The baby smiled, belched and threw up a little white froth.   
  
Decker wrinkled his nose in disgust. He'd seen his sisters caring for their babies and knew what he had to do. Rummaging in his pocket for a handkerchief. Hang on what was that? His fingers closed around a small plastic nugget. Pulling it out, he chuckled remembering the micro tracker and bug he'd been given to try out in the field.   
  
"C'mon men, let's hit the road."   
  
Decker froze, hearing his nemesis’ voice. Damn, he couldn't take on Smith, Baracus and Peck together. Glancing around, he saw no sign of Crane or reinforcements. Thinking on his feet, Decker slipped the bug into the top of the baby's diaper, before beating a hasty retreat.   
  
Now he had the A-Team. The bug may have been lost in a diaper change, but listening in, he heard the men discussing the returning of the baby on Saturday. The only thing that confused Decker was it sounded like four men talking not three. He made a mental note to visit the psychiatric ward where Captain Murdock resided. Decker's suspicion the crazy man was the fourth member of the team had never been proven. This weekend he'd find out for sure.   


xxxx

Hannibal made the team undertake full reconnaissance of the area. Preparation was a core quality of the green berets, not like those navy SEALS who barged in first and asked questions later. He settled down to wait.   
  
With the help of Mama B, the child, Sarah, had calmed over the last few days. He quite liked the kid now. Only this morning he'd been trying to convince BA the strange noise the baby was squeaking sounded like, 'Dada'. He smiled remembering it, as a warm, fuzzy feeling washed over him. He wasn't going to let any harm come to the child, be it his or one of his men's. She was now the most precious thing the team had ever been tasked to protect.   
  
Having watched Face efficiently changing the baby's diaper, he knew his Lieutenant felt the same way. Okay, Face was wearing full surgical scrubs, a face mask and gloves, but the affection in the younger man's eyes was clear. 

Murdock had learnt every lullaby he could and would regularly be seen rocking and singing to Sarah, in his deep southern drawl, anytime she got wind. The captain had hardly sounded crazy the last few days, almost like he was preparing for Sarah to be his. He was obviously looking forward to the adventure and taking it seriously. 

BA, though evidently not the father, had put his mechanical skills to use. Creating the best off road buggy he could, an electric rocker for the cradle and the most exquisite, musical mobile, which Sarah adored.   
  
Hannibal's reverie was broken by the crackle of the CB radio, strapped to his belt.   
  
"Big Daddy One," he said into it.   
  
"Big Daddy Three transmitting," Face's voice replied. "I have the mother. Repeat I have the mother."   
  
Hannibal beamed, he knew his team would track the woman down soon as she entered the vicinity. No need for them to wait two hours for the irresponsible woman's personal schedule. “Roger, bring her in, Face."

  
BA vacated the area, driving the team and nameless, very silent, woman away from the Kozy Klub. The three officers all kept looking at the woman and then each other. They silently communicated none of them recognised her.   


xxxx

  
Arriving at the classy apartment Face had scammed, Mama B rushed out to greet them, with little Sarah in her arms.   
  
"Oh, baby, are you okay? You must have been so worried about Sarah. I can't imagine what a state you got in, to want to leave your daughter with these men," BA's mom gushed warmly, passing the baby to the frightened looking woman.   
  
"Sarah…" No one could understand any more, as the woman sobbed with her face pressed against her child.   
  
"Now let's get you both inside. What should I call you?" Mama B soothed, with her arm around the woman.   
  
"Tracey," the woman replied, briefly lifting her head away from the baby.   
  
The A-Team stood back watching.  This was women's business, their skill set didn't cover calming hysterical woman, especially ones who abandoned their baby.   
  
"Hannibal, I don't forget a face, I've never met that woman before," Face said quietly, as the two women and baby entered the apartment complex.   
  
"Me neither, my list ain't as long as Face's." Murdock playfully jabbed his buddy in the ribs. "But, Colonel, I've never so much as kissed that woman, let alone anything else."   
  
BA growled, not wanting the description of 'anything else.'   
  
They all turned to look at Hannibal. He slowly pulled out a cigar from his top pocket. Face, using his zippo, produced a flame instantly. Hannibal took a long draw, before taking the cigar out the corner of his mouth and sighing sadly. “It ain't my kid either.

  
"So who is?" Murdock asked.   
  
"Ya mean I've had a crash course in child care and I didn't need to?" Face whined.   
  
"Yep, looks that way," Hannibal replied, clamping the cigar back between his pearly whites. "We best go find out about this Tracey and who the father actually is then."   
  
"None of 'em interrogation methods, she's only a girl," BA grumbled, following the confused officers inside.   


xxxx

"Decker? We've been looking after Decker's kid?" Face howled in disgust. The team's biggest, most constant headache and he'd held that man's baby and soothed it to sleep.   
  
"He's obsessed with you. I knew it was the only way," Tracey sobbed, trying to explain her reasons.   
  
Hannibal frowned at the woman. "Look, lady, I don't understand why you think my team can reunite you and Roderick. We do our damndest to stay away from him." 

  
"Everything was great until he was assigned to catch you," Tracey started, gratefully accepting a Kleenex from Murdock. "Then he stopped coming round, eventually he stopped even calling me. He was always racing across the country after you."   
  
"She's Decker's dog. Hannibal, let's dump the skirt and high tail outta here." Face nervously ran his hand through his hair.   
  
"Now stop being so rude," Mama B scolded. "Let the poor dear explain herself." She placed a comforting arm across Tracey's shoulders.   
  
"Out with it, girl," Hannibal demanded, pulling his cigar from his mouth to gesticulate at the crying woman.   
  
"I- I don't want you caught. I just thought if you had Sarah than when Rod found you, he'd have to listen to me. He doesn't even know about her." Tracey dissolved into unintelligible sobs.   
  
"Lil' Mama, don't cry. Hannibal, he'll have a plan," BA soothed, Decker's kid or not, this lady needed the team's help.   
  
Hannibal chomped his cigar thoughtfully. He started to smirk, which grew into a broad, face-splitting, beaming smile.   
  
"Man, he's on the jazz," BA giggled with a surprisingly high pitch, considering the black man's muscular bulk.   
  
Face rolled his eyes, while tugging at his shirt collar. "Aww, really, Hannibal?"    
  


"We're gonna turn the tables. The A-Team are gonna chase and catch Decker," Hannibal chuckled. "And it's gonna be the best damn game of tag ever."   
  
"Colonel, sounds like fun. Captain HM Murdock reporting for duty." The pilot snapped off a crooked salute.   
  
"Oh boy." Face rolled his eyes again.

~TAT~TAT~

 


	3. We’re A Team

**We're A Team** ****  
  
"Faster! Can't you go any faster?" Decker demanded.   
  
He dragged his head and shoulders back inside the car. Glaring at his spent revolver. The spare cartridges were in the trunk, which was totally useless in the current situation. He gasped, being thrown against the dash, as Captain Crane swung the Dodge down a side street.   
  
"Colonel, Baracus' van's gaining on us." Crane felt his blood run cold, the rear view mirror provided a graphic reminder how close the A-Team were. Not used to this role reversal, he was far more used to seeing it out the windshield. His gut lurched, seeing the dangerous war criminals closing the gap on him.   
  
Decker took a moment to mentally regroup. Hating the idea, he realised he needed to think like Smith would. "Take the next right," he ordered.   
  
"But- but, Sir, it's closed for construction work on the bridge," Crane stuttered his fears.   
  
Decker looked over at his captain. "I know." He grinned manically. "Hit every warning sign, I want as much debris as possible in their way."   
  
Never one not to follow a direct order, Crane expertly zigzagged across the road. Uncharacteristically, Decker howled with delight as each flying missile launching over the hood, directly into the path of the chasing GMC Vandura.

xxxx

"Crazy fool," BA growled, making another evasive manoeuvre to avoid shredding the van's tyres on the metal obstacles littering his path.   
  
"Crane’s obviously gone to the same, 'Insane Officers Training School,' Hannibal attended." Face, still wearing a military police uniform, clung to his seat in the back. Losing his balance, he landed head first in Murdock's lap.   
  
"You're just grouchy Hannibal made ya be his stooge again," Murdock offered, disentangling himself from Face.   
  
"Yeah, 'cos breaking into Decker's own car to neutralise the radio, is my favourite weekend passtime," Face grumbled.   
  
Hannibal chuckled from the front, calmly lighting his cigar, apparently oblivious of the violently swinging vehicle around him. His lieutenant might be disgruntled about being ordered to infiltrate enemy territory, but he knew the conman could do it. He allowed himself another self-satisfied chuckle at the memory of watching Face disable each MP car, as Decker's men waited for the A-Team to show up at the Kozy Klub. Leaving Crane's car engine undamaged the team had waited for Decker to call off the stakeout. Then they gave chase.   
  
"Hannibal, I ain't jumping over no bridge. Only just replaced her suspension from last time." BA lovingly patted the van's steering wheel. He'd already worked hard to avoid his ride getting shot up when Decker fired wildly in a feeble effort to stop the A-Team. He wasn't putting his gal at risk any more.   
  
"C'mon, Sergeant, we can't let him get away now," Hannibal cajoled. "She's got it in her, ya know she has."

xxxx

"Step on it. We need more velocity to make it," Decker ordered, with a completely neutral expression. You didn't survive Vietnam and several years chasing the A-Team without remaining in control during critical situations.   
  
Crane gave his commanding officer a brief glance, as they smashed through the last road closed barrier. He slammed his foot to the floor and the Dodge accelerated up the remains of the bridge. "Hang on, Sir," he gasped.   
  
The asphalt ended and the car flew through the air.   
  
Despite the seatbelts, both men crashed about the interior, as the tyres jolted onto  _ terrafirma _ the other side. Only Crane's deathlike grip on the steering wheel stopped him losing control.   
  
Righting himself, Decker looked back to see Baracus' van swerve and come to a stop at the edge of the bridge. "Yes!" he yelled ecstatically.   
  
Even Crane allowed himself an uncharacteristic smile.   


xxxx

Hannibal jumped out the van, letting off a volley of bullets from his M16, but the distance was to far for the assault rifle to have any real effect. He watched Decker escaping, only the massive cloud of black smoke pouring from the retreating car gave him hope.   
  
"He'll be lucky to get any more than five klicks," BA confirmed Hannibal's suspicions.   
  
Map in hand, Murdock joined them watching the smoke trail disappearing. "That puts 'em firmly in the middle of Gulliver's Forrest."   
  
"Mount up and roll out. We've going hunting," Hannibal said with a grin, swinging back into the front of the van.   
  
Face was in the process of clambering out, having finally crawled from the back, where he'd been changing into his light grey Hugo Boss suit. 

 

“Aww, Hannibal," he said with an eye roll, landing dejectedly on his seat behind the colonel.   


xxxx

"Sir, leave me. You've got a better chance on your own," Crane said, from the ground, having fallen again.   
  
Decker halted his mad run through the dense forest, to look back at his captain. If the boy hadn't been such a klutz, tripping over the log, he wouldn't have a sprained ankle. Decker went to throw Crane a spare cartridge for his revolver. The kid was right, he'd leave him here with extra ammo. Decker could then escape and bring back help. Decker hesitated, as a thought crossed his mind.  _ What would Smith do?  _ The renegade might be many things, but his loyalty to his men remained core.   
  
"Crane, we're a team. We need to stay together as a unit." He felt uncomfortable saying it, but to beat Smith he needed to play him at his own game. The look of relief that passed across Crane's face gave Decker confirmation this was the right plan.   
  
Using his knife, Decker tore a strip off his shirt. He expertly bound Crane's swelling ankle, then found a long stick and quickly fashioned a simple crutch. With Decker supporting Crane, they continued to try and escape.   


xxxx

  
"Split up, men. For a change we outnumber the enemy." Hannibal held up his hand to stop Face, who opened his mouth to protest at the plan. "And I want radio silence until they're caught."   
  
"That's a terrible plan," Murdock gasped.   
  
"Yeah, the fool's right. We're a team, we should stick together," BA growled, looking up from examining the MP’s car he was in the process of fixing.

  
"Gotta stay with your unit," Murdock affirmed.   
  
"Guys, to catch Decker we need to think like him. I'm sure he'll ditch Crane first chance he gets. If we work separately there's a better chance of us rounding up both of them. That'll stop Crane calling in back-up and screwing up stage two," Hannibal explained.   
  
He was greeted by three dubious looks. Not that it mattered, he wouldn't deviate from the plan.   
  
Unseen by their commanding officer, Face gave BA and Murdock a silent signal. They'd follow Hannibal's orders and set off independently, then meet soon as possible to create a better plan.   
  
The team left the van next to the broken car and headed into the forest in different directions.   


xxxx

Decker couldn't believe their luck. Every instinct and all his training had told him to put as much distance as possible between himself and the A-Team. Yet trying to think crazy, like Colonel Smith, had led to them doubling back on their trail.   
  
Taking a large rock, he smashed the passenger window of the team's distinctive red striped van. Getting Crane comfortable, Decker quickly hotwired the van. The roar of the engine brought Baracus running and hollering from the treeline.   
  
Too late.   
  
Decker gave a self-satisfied smirk. He was getting away.   
  
"Hannibal! Hannibal!" BA yelled into his CB.   
  
"Big Daddy Four, I said radio silence unless you've caught one of them," Hannibal angrily replied.   
  
"Hannibal! They got my van."   


xxxx

Depressed, the team stood by the defunct MP car.   
  
"What now?" Face asked, secretly rather pleased their woodland adventure had been cut short. His tailor was still complaining about the repairs he had had to do on Face's Armani suit after the potato factory mission.   
  
Hannibal lit a fresh cigar, trying to channel his inner Decker. He knew his adversary pretty well. Then in a moment of genius it came to him. "We wait here," he said brightly.   
  
"What?" Face groaned in disbelief.   
  
"Look, kid, Decker's so fixated on catching us, he won't be able to stop himself coming back to try again." Hannibal was pleased with this plan, it was a piece of cake.   
  
"Enough," Murdock suddenly piped up. "Hannibal, stop your Deckeresque attitude. Decker hasn't caught ya doing things his way, so why the hell do you think we'll catch him copying his mistakes?"   
  
"Yeah, what he says," BA agreed.   
  
"Sorry, Hannibal, Murdock's right. Now can you come up with a better plan or am I going to have to take command?" Face glared at his colonel. "I've never seen you like this. It's just so...wrong."   
  
It was the proverbial slap Hannibal needed, his whole team threatening mutiny. He started to pace, while inhaling the rich woody smoke from his cigar. He stopped and looked at his expectant men, his eyes had a wicked glint.   
  
"He's on the jazz," BA said smiling.   
  
Face nervously straightened his tie. “Oh boy.”

 

~TAT~TAT~

 

 


	4. I Need A Hero

**I Need A Hero**

“Help! Help! Can anyone hear me?” a female voice crackled over the radio in the van.

Crane and Decker looked at each other for a moment, before Crane grabbed the handset.

“Ma’am, I’m Captain Crane, US Army. Sitrep.”

‘Sitrep?’ Tracey mouthed at Hannibal, rather confused.

He checked she wasn’t holding the talk bar. “Just read the script, darling,” he replied around the cigar, clenched between his teeth.

Depressing the talk bar, Tracey continued. “I’ve been captured by the A-Team.”

“Where are you, ma’am?” Crane answered.

Hannibal nodded to reassure Tracey, encouraging her to go on.

“I don’t know. It’s some sort of disused poultry farm. I think near I57. I can’t see much. I’m in a locked shed.”

“Old Tom’s, Turkey Twizzlers plant is north of Gulliver’s Forest,” Decker said, looking concerned. “We can be there in 15.”

“Ma’am, we’re en route. ETA 15 mikes. Stay calm,” Crane relayed quickly.

“Get on frequency nine. Try and rally back-up,” Decker ordered. 

Desolate sobbing stopped Crane retuning the radio. “Ma’am, I need you to calm down and clear this transmission.”

“No. No! Please don’t go. I’m so scared.” Tracey sobbed. Hannibal stood next to her, beaming at the broad’s acting skills. 

Impatient, Decker grabbed the radio off Crane. “Colonel Decker here. Ma’am, clear the radio.”

“Rod, is that really you?”

Hearing his first name, Decker nearly sweared off the road. “Who is this?” he said in disbelief.

“Tracey Moore, your Tracey.”

Decker’s eyes widened in shock.

“The A-Team have me hostage and will exchange me for their van. I heard them talking before they left me here. Rod, I’m scared,” the radio in the van continued.

“Tracey, honey, I’m coming,” Decker replied, his voice gentler than normal. He released the talk bar. “I’m gonna wring Smith’s neck if he touches one hair on her head,” he growled.

“You know her, Sir?” Crane asked. Amazed his commanding officer might actually be human after all.

“She’s my….was my girlfriend. At least until Smith got in the way. He must’ve tracked her down. Now wants to bargain this hunk of scrap for her life.” Furious, he smashed his fist against the steering wheel.

“Keep him talking. Whatever you do don’t let him end the connection,” Hannibal said quietly to Tracey, before going off to join his men working in one of the outbuildings.

xxxx

Jacket off, sleeves rolled up, Face approached his commanding officer. “Er, Hannibal, can I just clarify this plan with ya?” He waved his hand towards Murdock holding metal sheets, while BA welded them on to the MP’s Dodge, which they’d repaired and driven to the disused turkey processing plant . “Exactly why are we fortifying Decker’s car?”

Casually slinging his arm over his second in command’s shoulders, Hannibal removed his cigar to gesticulate through the air in front of them. “Kid, you have no imagination. We lure Decker here so he can save Tracey and we get BA’s van back.”

“Aww, Hannibal, I still don’t get how,” Face whined.

“Have you done a full weapons check, Lieutenant?” Hannibal returned to business.

“All we got is our M16s, Murdock’s two lucky potatoes from the last job and that chaffer over there. Everything else is in the van.” Face scowled as he replied.

“And the ammo?” Hannibal released Face and moved towards Mama B, who was busy squashing lumps of chopped hay into balls, using turkey droppings to hold the shape. She’d got a cab to bring her, Tracey and the baby to meet them when Hannibal radioed.

“We have 150 pellets,” Face sighed, going to run his hand through his hair, stopping himself, remembering those hands had been helping Mama B until a few minutes ago. “But I still don’t get it.”

Pleased with the preparations, Hannibal raised his voice. “Face, get Tracey and tie her up in here. Everyone else, take your positions. Mama B, get the baby ready. It’s nearly show time!” he ordered.

xxxx

“Crane, wait here. If things go south get the hell outta here and get help,” Decker ordered swinging out the van and heading to the open yard of the turkey farm. 

“Smith, I’m here. Where’s the girl?” he bellowed.

Eerie silence greeted him.

“Tracey? Tracey?” he shouted.

A faint whimper came from the largest barn, on the far side of the yard. Quickly scanning for hostiles, Decker ran to the shed door. With difficulty, he swung the large door open.

Seeing Tracey gagged and tied to a chair, next to his car, he raced forward.

“Honey, I’m here now,” he said, carefully pulling the gag down.

“Sarah. Please check Sarah,” Tracey begged.

“Who’s Sarah?”

Decker was answered by a gurgling sound from the backseat of the car.

“She’s your baby, Rod,” Tracey managed between sobs.

“What the-”

“Decker,” Hannibal’s voice boomed. “BA wants his van back. Get Crane out of his van. Now!”

“Captain, drive the van in here!” Decker ordered into his handheld radio.

Crane slid into the driver’s seat and started the van. It roared into life, then loudly backfired, making him jump.

A potato flew out of the exhaust pipe. 

“Colonel, there’s a problem,” Crane gasped, then collapsed into the footwell at the second loud explosion.

Another potato fired from the back of the van. 

Murdock watched in satisfaction at his covertly placed vegetable missiles. “Fastest french fries ever,” he laughed to himself.

“Captain Crane, out of the van and on the ground, before I blow up the whole thing,” Hannibal bellowed. 

Terrified, Crane fell from the van and crawled to the front.

Face and BA worked the modified chaffer together, the burly black man swinging it on to target, while the conman fired a few feet from the cowering form of Crane.

To avoid being hit by the incoming poultry poop pellets, Crane limped, dodged,and skipped, driven towards the open shed. As he skidded into the cover of the building, the heavy door swung shut, with a loud clunk, as the external bolt was locked.

Hannibal stepped back from the door, chuckling. “You have five minutes to surrender or we’re coming in.”

Unseen, Murdock and Face pointed their M16s in the air and let off a loud volley of bullets. Quickly they fell back and leapt in the van. Face hung out the open side, his weapon prepared to cover Hannibal.

BA helped his mama into the passenger seat, then clambered behind the wheel. 

Hannibal checked his team were ready. Running backwards, he dosed the ground with bullets from his rifle, creating more chaotic noise before jumping in beside Face, so he sat legs hanging out the open side door.

“Man, why ya giving ‘em five minutes? That’s the mistake he always makes, ya know, giving us time,” BA grumbled, very concerned Hannibal was behaving like Decker again.

“Do none of you have any imagination?” Hannibal groused.

“Scooter,” Mama B started. “Hannibal doesn’t want to capture Decker, he only wants to bring him back together with Tracey and Sarah.”

“Thank you, Mrs Baracus. Would you like to join the A-Team? I think you’d be better than my current team,” Hannibal suggested, pulling a cigar from Face’s shirt pocket. Face quickly handed over his zippo, before he got frisked by the jazzed up colonel.

“So why aren’t we getting outta here, double time?” Murdock asked.

Hannibal chuckled, taking a large draw on the cigar. “And miss the show? Never,” 

xxxx

“What now, Sir?” Crane asked.

Decker was totally oblivious to the question, holding his daughter, with a strange, dreamy look on his face. Crane wasn’t sure if it was the low light or if real tears were forming in his colonel’s eyes.

“You saved us. Rod, you’re my hero,” Tracey gushed.

“She’s- she’s mine? She’s my daughter?” Decker stuttered, protectively cradling the delicate child in his arms.

“Colonel Decker,” Crane yelled forcefully. “Your family reunion is lovely, but we are trapped by the A-Team. So unless you’ve got a plan, your new family life may be short lived.”

To emphasis the point, another cascade of bullets fired outside the shed.

Snapping his focus back to the immediate situation, Decker scanned their temporary prison.  _ What would Smith do? _

He focused on the Dodge, Sarah had been inside.

“See if you can get the car started,” he ordered. Relieved when the car roared into life. “Tracey, honey, get in the back with my daughter,” he helped her up off the chair.

Tracey gently took the baby off him. “She’s called Sarah.” 

“You get down in the back, cover Sarah by lying over her. I’m going to get us all out of here,” Decker said confidently. “Crane, I’ll drive, you get ready with your pistol. I won’t let Smith get away with this.”

They climbed in the car. Decker gunned the engine. Confident the odd tank shield, welded on the hood, would protect them, he floored the car towards the locked doors.

He burst out of the shed and into the open yard. Spotting the A-Team’s van, he drove towards it, fast. 

BA stood on the gas. Wheels spinning, in a cloud of dust, he accelerated away. 

Crane’s aim was good, as bullets ricocheted off the van’s armoured sides. 

“Not too fast, Sergeant. I want a ringside seat,” Hannibal ordered, hanging out the sunroof, looking at the chasing car.

Decker’s car began misfiring. Seeing the gas gauge on red, frustrated, he tapped it. To no avail. The car stuttered to a stop. The red striped van calmly disappeared over the horizon.

“Damn you, Smith. Next time. I’ll get you next time,” Decker ranted, getting out of the defunct car and angrily kicking the tyres.

“Rod, you saved me. You saved Sarah.” Tracey joined him, passing the baby over. “You saved our daughter.” Standing on tiptoe, Tracey kissed him fully on the lips. “You’re our hero.”

Immediately Decker’s fury evaporated, as he blushed under the praise.

Tracey threw her arms around her little family. “You’ll always be my hero. Can we go home now?” 

“Honey, anything. Anything for my precious girls.”

Awkwardly, Crane stood off to the side, unable to disguise his giant smile at the beautiful reunion.

xxxx

“Okay, Hannibal, we’ve got away, can you now explain your crazy plan?” Face requested, looking with disgust at his ruined, turkey turd stained suit.

“What red blooded man doesn’t want to be someone’s hero? Decker is always the villian. Today he has saved the girl from the big, bad A-Team. Today he is the hero.” Hannibal relit his cigar and settled back, between the seats in the rear of the van.

Mama B reached across to pinch her son’s cheek, affectionately. “And I got to spend time with my Scooter.” 

“Get off, Mama,” BA said quietly, grinning from ear to ear, looking at his mom.

“And everyone lived happily ever after,” Murdock chirped.

“I love it when a plan comes together.” Hannibal beamed around his cigar at his men. 

Face rolled his eyes, slumping in his seat, shaking his head. “Oh boy!” 

**~FINI~**


End file.
